


Altared

by GasolineGhuleh



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Just smut, PWP, Prior Consent, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24132826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasolineGhuleh/pseuds/GasolineGhuleh
Summary: Papa 3 with a female reader against the altar. That's it, it's just shameless smut.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Kudos: 35





	Altared

The altar sits before you, black marble with lit and softly flickering red candles. The small book that is implemented in sermons lay open on the side, reverently discarded after this mornings readings. The prayer pillows were stacked in the corner of the chapel, only put out during the day ever since the clergy shrunk its numbers.

You hear the chapel door open behind you but you don’t look back. Your knees are already aching after being on the floor for close to thirty minutes, now. At least you’re almost done. The sense of calm has finally presided over your tumultuous thoughts. So deep in your prayers are you that you only startle when a familiar gloved hand rests on your shoulder.

“Papa?”

“A good night for prayer, yes Sister? I, too, felt Him tonight. The clear skies- they lend themselves to thoughtfulness.” You relax under his touch, nodding and tucking your rosary back under your habit. “Clearing the mind does not come easy to us here, sometimes.”

“Yes. I’ve had some things on my mind as of late and figured that a prayer may aid in clearing my head.” His hand raises from your shoulder and pats your head once, twice.

“I get this. My thoughts also cloud sometimes.” You feel him lean down as he presses his painted lips to your ear. “There are other ways to clear a head, Sister.” You cock your head to the side, intrigued by his offer.

“Oh?” His hands slide down your front to cup you gently and you sigh, relaxing into his easy embrace. “I thought we said last time was the last time, Papa.”

“I cannot not have you, Sister. Every day, all these days you walk around the abbey and I see you- I see your body and how it moves and I know…Bella, I know how your body looks and I-” Papa bends his head swiftly and licks a small patch on your neck. “I crave it.”

“Then take it.” You lean your head back onto Papa’s chest as his lips trace their way down your neck. His knees connect with the floor with a small /thump/ as his arms fully wind around you to clutch you tight to his chest. Already, he’s moaning and calling you pet names. It had been two weeks since he’d taken you last and you hate to admit it but- you’re getting a thrill at seeing the man so thoroughly wanton in his need for you.

“Up, up, get up.” Papa stands himself and helps you off of the floor. He pushes you forward until your hips are flush with the altar, his hands already flipping your habit up over the swell of your ass. His right hand comes around the front of your habit to toy with the top of your underwear, fingers searching to be underneath it.

“Papa! On the altar, we can’t-”

“I am Papa. We will fuck where I want.” At this, he grinds his hips into you and you give in completely, reaching your arms across the altar to hold onto the marble edge. “Lucifer told me I would find the answer to my problem if I come to the chapel, and here you are.” He punctuates this by slipping his hand into your underwear and thumbing your clit, already applying hard pressure.

“What was your problem, Papa?” You buck slightly back into him as he moves his thumb in circles, his other hand gripping your waist hard enough to leave a mark. He shifts and brings himself closer to you and you can feel the radiating heat of his warm cock on your ass, already pulled out of his slacks.

“My problem is that I have been thinking of you, yes? I lay in bed and I touch myself and nothing. Seems. To. Work.” He punctuates his words with sharp grinds into you, making the heat that had started to pool inside of you ratchet up to a burning lust. You turn your head back to look at him and the burning desire in his eyes causes your breath to catch in your chest.

“Then take me, Papa. Use me.” Papa tilts his head back briefly, reveling in your words before his hands are on you. Your underwear is ripped from you, seams split and discarded on the floor. You move to help Papa unzip your habit and he stops you explaining, “I like when you leave it on. The haste.” You nod and return your hands to grip the altar. There’s a brief thought of the flickering candles toppling over during this, but it’s cast from your mind as Papa’s hand comes to your cheek, spreading you open lewdly for him.

“I miss you like this, Bella. So beautiful, so open, so…” He slides into you slowly, relishing the tight squeeze of your walls on him. “Receptive.” He pulls almost completely out of you to slide back in slowly, and you get the sense that he’s watching himself disappear into you. You close your eyes, giving yourself over to the sensation of him filling you. Already, your thighs are starting to burn from the way you are standing on your toes. You readjust slightly and, at your movement, Papa thrusts into you hard- his pelvis meets the fleshy part of your ass loudly and you groan in pleasure.

“Papa!” You shift yourself again slightly, moving your hips against his. His hand comes to the dip in your spine and presses down slightly. He’s done this to you before- subtle movements to let you know who’s in control here. It isn’t you.

“Stand still while I fuck you, my pet.” You’ve never heard Papa even attempt to say the word ‘fuck’. This is a new side for you…an exciting side. His one hand stays on the base of your spine while the other snakes upward to twine into your hair. He grips you tightly and begins to thrust in earnest now, finding a good rhythm. As you feared, the candles on the altar wobble slightly but Papa, so lost in his lust, does not seem to notice.

“Papa- the candles, we can’t burn down the chapel,” you manage to get in between his thrusts. Papa groans and stops, swiping a finger through your slickness. When had he removed his gloves? He leans over you, pressing kisses up your back and quickly pinches the flames of the candles out.

“There, now we do not burn, sorella.” His hand comes and lands sharply on your ass, grabbing and kneading as he starts to move inside of you again. “So many nights I think of this. Defiling my own altar with you.” At his words you moan, swiveling your hips in circles. He groans deeply and murmurs to you in Italian. A gasp slides past your lips unbidden as he changes angles and slides across that spot inside of you.

“Oh my god, yes, Papa!” You cry out, gripping on to the altar even tighter, your thighs starting to shake with the need to cum.

“What is this ‘yes, Papa’ you say? I am chasing my own pleasure, not yours!” You know it’s only a game- Papa would never let you not finish when the two of you are together. But something about his desperately selfish words have you keening your pleasure, something that tips to a fever point when his finger presses against your clit. You buck slightly against Papa’s unrelenting pace and the cold marble of the altar as you break over the flood gates of your own orgasm, biting heavily on the flesh of your upper arm in an attempt to stay quiet.

Papa’s hand moves from your clit back to your hip as he holds you tight and thrusts deeply once, twice and stops. You can feel the kick of his length inside of you as he cums hard, hands squeezing you in rhythm with himself. You turn your head to look at him, and are quickly grateful that you did- he’s beautiful like this. His head is tilted back, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. His hair is damp with sweat and lay across his forehead. The papal paint, usually pristine, is running together just slightly from perspiration. His tongue has almost completely removed his lip paint.

He claps both hands to your ass and squeezes fondly before sliding out of you and zipping his pants back up. You stand up yourself, fixing your habit and tsking at the remains of your panties, now unwearable. Papa presents you with a handkerchief that he delicately dabbed his face with, allowing you to do the same.

“Thank you, Papa. I needed that.” You hand his handkerchief back to him and watch as it disappears into his pocket.

“I know. Next time, come to my rooms, yes? It will be far less disruptive to my chapel.” You nod shyly, dipping your head to avoid him seeing your flush. He catches you anyway and lifts your chin to look at your eyes. “I mean it. Just come. You will never be turned away. No last times. Not again.” Papa leans in and kisses you tenderly, thumb stroking your cheekbone. He pulls back and reaches behind you, swatting your ass playfully. “Now get to sleep, it’s past curfew for Sisters.”


End file.
